


Made for Ending

by track_04



Category: Magic School Bus, Mary Poppins (1964)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Lords & Ladies, F/F, Friends to Lovers, Non-Linear Narrative
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-20
Updated: 2016-08-20
Packaged: 2018-08-09 23:45:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7821889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/track_04/pseuds/track_04
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The story of Time Lords Mary Poppins and Valerie Frizzle, from beginning to end to beginning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Made for Ending

**Author's Note:**

  * For [spirie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spirie/gifts).



As with most good Gallifreyan tales, it begins with an ending.

Mary is both young and old at the start of it, as is the way with Gallifreyans, who refuse to live out their lives in a manner that respects the passage of time. She spends her days in a small, white office with spotless floors and a rather unimpressive desk. At this desk, she reviews documents and files them away carefully, so that others may find them later. It's all a bit dull and uninspiring on the surface, but beneath that lies depths that most people will never be fully aware of, which is exactly the way that Mary likes it.

When Mary leaves her office for the evening, she's exhausted, weary from days and nights full of endless talking. Time Lords, as a people, love to hear themselves talk. They also tend to believe that they have very important things to say on each and every topic; unfortunately, most of them do not, as a rule, ever manage to say anything of actual importance. It's tiring, to say the least.

She blames her exhaustion for not noticing straight away that she's not alone—Valerie is sitting on the large, rather unattractive chair that Mary keeps in her front room specifically for Valerie's visits. Valerie is the only person who ever seems to want to sit in it, claiming that it's comfortable, once you manage to get past the look of it. For now, Mary chooses to believe her, only partially because it seems like a rather stupid thing to lie about.

"I thought you'd be home earlier." Valerie's robes are a whirl of color that somehow manages to both work with and against the chair's upholstery. By all rights, it should be too much pattern and brightness in one place, especially when topped off with the wild tangle that is her hair, but Mary finds herself drawn to the picture it makes. 

Mary thinks about taking a seat in one of the other chairs or on the sofa, but straightens her back and stays standing instead. "Did you come here to tell me goodbye?"

"Actually, I came to see if you wanted to come with me." Valerie taps her fingers against the arm of the chair and smiles. "Sure you don't want to reconsider?"

"I can't."

"Not yet, anyway." Valerie sighs and rises, crossing the room to stand in front of her. She reaches up, framing the sides of Mary's face with her hands and leans in, kissing her gently, lingering until Mary leans in, too. When she pulls away, she's still smiling. "I'll find you, when you do change your mind."

"If," Mary corrects her, the corners of her mouth twitching with the urge to smile. "See that you don't get caught. I'd rather not have to stand witness at your trial."

"I don't think anyone cares enough to try to catch me." She drops her hands and takes a step back, stares at Mary like she's trying to memorize her face. 

"I'm sure there's someone," Mary says and allows herself a brief smile.

"I guess I'll see you soon, then." Valerie watches her, waiting long enough to be sure Mary isn't going to deny it before she steps around her and heads for the door.

Mary listens to her leave, but doesn't let herself turn to watch her walk away.

\--

Mary has always hated her uncle's parties. As a child, she was forced to bide her time in a room with the other children while, she was certain, the adults were elsewhere having fun. As an adult, she's forced to make idle conversation with her uncle's friends and co-workers, as well as her own.

She thinks, listening to one of her uncle's friends relaying, at length, the work he'd done in one of his previous incarnations as a public works planner on a small moon in a distant galaxy several thousand years in the future, that she'd much rather be a child again. 

"This has been very educational," Mary says, smiling tightly. "But I believe I need a drink."

He smiles back and turns to one of the other guests standing in their small circle and continues talking without missing a beat.

Relieved, Mary slips away, nodding politely at a few co-workers she sees scattered among the other guests. She bypasses the refreshments and steps out of the house and onto the back veranda, taking a deep breath of the warm night air. It smells like dust and electricity, and she leans up against the railing, scanning the horizon for any signs of an impending storm. 

"Not a fan of parties, either?"

The voice startles Mary and she turns, finding a woman seated on the railing not far from her, her robe hitched up around her knees and her bare legs dangling out into thin air. 

"Not especially, no," Mary admits, surprised at her own honesty. Parties and other social gatherings are, as a general rule, not the kind of place where one bothers to speak the truth.

The woman looks delighted at Mary's answer and smiles like they're sharing a secret, then leans in closer, whispering, "The conversation is much better out here."

Mary arches an eyebrow. "That remains to be seen."

The woman laughs. "Well, I hope so, anyway. If I'm worse at conversation than the people in there, I may have to throw in the towel and move somewhere remote so I don't risk boring anyone to death ever again."

Mary smiles briefly. "You've already managed to be more stimulating than my last conversation partner, so I don't think there's any need to be hasty."

"That's a relief." She watches Mary, her expression curious. "So, how did you manage to swing an invite to this thing? They usually don't let more than one person with a sense of humor in."

"I'm an archivist for the government."

"Ah, so it's a work party," the woman says, looking genuinely interested. "They made you come so you could rub elbows with all the big wigs, too?"

"Not entirely." Mary shakes her head, wondering who the other woman is here to impress, and turns to look out at the garden. "This is also my uncle's house. And his party."

The woman makes a sound of disappointment. "I'm sorry."

Mary turns back to her, frowning a little. "About what?"

"If this is your uncle's party, that means that you've been to a lot more of these things than I have. I'm very sorry you had to go through that."

Mary lets out a quick, quiet laugh and rests her arms against the railing, relaxing her posture. "It wasn't quite so bad when I was a child."

"Because they didn't let you hang out with the adults, right?"

"There's a separate room for the children."

The woman looks thoughtful. "Do you think they'd notice if we just hid there for the rest of the night?"

"Unfortunately, yes. I'm also fairly sure they'd notice if we tried to hide out here for the rest of the evening, too." Mary watches the way the woman's curls move with the night breeze and offers her hand. "I'm Mary, by the way."

"Valerie," the woman says and takes it. She smiles again, like smiling comes as easily to her as breathing. "Nice to meet you, Mary."

Mary starts to answer without having any real idea what she's going to say, but her uncle's voice from the doorway interrupts, beckoning her back inside.

"I'll be right there," she tells him, hesitating long enough to share a look with Valerie. "It was nice meeting you. I hope we have the chance to do it again."

"I have a habit of popping up at the worst times and in the strangest places," Valeries says.

Mary thinks it's meant to be a promise. Or at least a part of her hopes it is.

\--

Mary is still young enough to be wearing the face she was born with when her uncle summons her to his office, hands her a cup of tea, and asks her to work as a spy for the High Council.

"A spy?" Mary rests her cup on her knee and stares at him, keeping her face carefully blank. If it were anyone else asking her this, she would have assumed they were either lying or attempting to play some sort of prank. Coming from her uncle, she's not sure what to think—he's one of the most literal-minded people she's ever known, and she's fairly certain he's incapable of anything approaching humor.

"Not a spy. An agent."

"Whatever you wish to call it, the function is still the same." She frowns at him and barely resists the urge to glance over her shoulder, just to be sure that they're alone. "You do realize that you're asking me to work outside the law."

"You would still have to answer to the Council. You would just be less restrained by certain rules and sanctions than you are now."

Mary takes a sip of her tea to give herself a moment to think. This wasn't really the sort of thing she'd ever stopped to imagine for herself. Then again, she'd never imagined that her uncle was the type to be involved in anything more exciting than a bit of misplaced paperwork. "And if I say no?"

He smiles at her in the same way that he had when she was still a child and he thought she was being particularly dense. "Then we will have your memory wiped."

Mary is mostly unsurprised by his response. "That doesn't seem like much of a choice."

"You'd rather the other option was death?" Her uncle is still smiling, and Mary thinks that she will never be able to look at him in quite the same way again. "This way, should you say no, you'll be able to continue your life just as you are now. Nothing of importance will be lost."

"I suppose that is better than death," she says, and despite her misgivings, she can't help but be intrigued. "And if I were to say yes?"

"I will inform the proper channels and, when the time is right, you will begin your training. When you're not busy with your normal duties, of course."

"Of course," Mary says and takes another sip of her tea.

It's a conversation that she will continue to remember for the rest of her rather long life.

\--

Mary is at her desk, reviewing a stack of legal documents from a tiny, insignificant planet that will die without much notice or fanfare a few thousand years into her past, when a hand appears beside hers on the desktop. She glances up, expecting to see another junior-level assistant with questions for her; the fact that she finds Valerie there, instead, is a bit of a surprise.

"I didn't think you'd be this hard to find." Valerie leans against the edge of Mary's desk and looks around her office, smiling. There's a large green lizard perched on her shoulder, not looking the least bit out of place and staring down at Mary in a way that can only be called inquisitive. 

"I've been right here." Mary leans back in her chair, her curiosity getting the better of her. "Can I help you with something?"

"Liz and I are going to lunch, and we'd like some company." She reaches up and scratches the lizard beneath the chin. "She's great company, but we've already talked about almost everything at this point. We thought it might be nice to get some fresh blood in on the conversation."

Mary looks from the lizard—Liz, she assumes—and back to Valerie. She looks different in the light of day, her robes a mess of color that's much more interesting than the more utilitarian uniform Mary is used to seeing on her fellow bureaucrats. Mary decides to break her unspoken rule against rash decisions and stands. "I don't know if I can promise interesting conversation, but I'll certainly try."

"Great." Valerie flashes her a smile and turns toward the door. "There's this place on Xirrinda I've been dying to try."

\--

There is no celebration when Mary passes her training and becomes a fully fledged agent of the Celestial Intervention Agency, but there are two smaller events which serve to mark the occasion.

The first is the nod of approval that Mary receives from the woman tasked with training her. Given the woman's aversion to any and all forms of praise, Mary chooses to regard it as high praise and considers it one of the highest compliments she will ever receive.

The second is when Mary's uncle leads her to a room hidden in a little-used area of the building where they work. 

They climb a set of winding stairs and pass through a maze of nearly identical corridors until they reach a door tucked up in a corner. It looks like all the other doors in the hallway, plain white and unassuming, the kind of door that doesn't usually warrant a second look.

Her uncle produces a key from his pocket and unlocks it, pushing it open to reveal a room that's much larger than the space between the doors in the hallway should allow. The entire room, ceiling to floor, is done in white and it's full nearly to bursting with shelves and tables and display cases full of one of the oddest collections of objects that Mary has ever seen.

"We find that it's more effective if we let agents choose their own tools of the trade." Her uncle gestures for her to enter the room, expression expectant. "Go and pick something out."

Mary frowns. "Is there anything in particular that I should be looking for?"

Her uncle shrugs. "I'm told you'll know it when you find it."

Mary nods and clasps her hands behind her back as she steps inside, moving down the long aisle that divides the room in two, her steps echoing against the tile. She turns right at a suit of armor and moves deeper into the room, eyeing some of the objects she passes curiously. A few of them eye her back, but she doesn't comment on it; she imagines being locked away in this great, dusty room is boring enough that she can excuse a bit of staring, but if they aren't going to go to the trouble of introducing themselves or saying a quick hello, then neither is she.

It's been long enough that the strangeness of the room is beginning to lose some of its appeal when she hears a low whistle and stops, turning to seek out the source. She finds an umbrella resting on a shelf just above her head and pulls it down, twisting it around until she's holding the handle in front of her face, staring at the face of a bird carved into the grip.

The umbrella opens and closes its beak, its little wooden eyes rolling back and forth to take in their surroundings. "Well, it's about time. I never thought I'd make it off that bloody shelf."

Mary arches an eyebrow. "Did no one ever tell you that whistling at strangers is rude?"

"It worked, didn't it?" It twists a bit in Mary's hands, fluffing up like a bird preening. "You'll need to take the bag, too. We're a bit of a matched set."

"That's a bit presumptuous."

"Not really. You're planning to take me out of here with you, and I wouldn't want you to leave the bag behind."

"And why, out of everything in this room, would I choose to take a shabby, ancient bag and an umbrella with no manners?"

"Because there's nothing else in here that will work with you half as well as we will," the umbrella says, matter-of-factly. 

"I have to admire your honesty, if not your cheek," Mary says and reaches up to take the bag down from the shelf, not seeing any reason to deny it or draw things out any longer. She opens the bag and peers inside to see nothing but a vast, empty space. She closes it and holds the umbrella up again so that she can look it in the eye. "I'm Mary."

"Nice to meet you, Mary. I'd introduce myself, but no one's ever bothered to give me a name."

"It's nice to meet you anyway," she says. "Even if you do lack manners."

The umbrella rolls its eyes. "Try having a conversation with half the things in here and you'll be impressed by my manners."

Mary turns her head to find a grandfather clock gawking at her and sighs. "I don't doubt that." She turns her head, lets her eyes scan the shelves around her one last time and then tightens her grip on the umbrella and the bag. "Shall we go, then?"

"Lead the way," the umbrella says.

Mary chooses to ignore the cheekiness of its tone.

\--

Valerie has an innate ability to pop up just when Mary has finally let her guard down and stopped expecting her. She claims that she has a busy schedule and shows up when the opportunity arises, but Mary thinks that she's always a bit too delighted for it to be pure coincidence. She's the type of person who seems to enjoy surprising people, and Mary is the person whom she seems to like surprising the most.

Mary is, oddly enough, somewhat flattered by the thought.

This time, Valerie waits until Mary is deep within the bowels of the archives, surrounded by its towering walls of carefully labelled drawers. Inside them are some of the papers and books that her people have collected from cultures scattered across time and the universe. She likes the quiet here, even if she dislikes the dust and the terrible lighting. It's the one place where people don't seem to want to bother her.

"Miss me?" Valerie is standing at the end of an aisle, leaning up against one of the shelves and watching her approach. 

"I saw you last week," Mary reminds her. They both know that means the answer is yes. "Why are you here?"

"Because I missed you," she says. Liz peeks her head out from behind her and sticks her tongue out at Mary. Mary is sorely tempted to stick her tongue out at Liz in return, but she manages to resist the urge.

"Are you skipping another meeting?"

"Not an important one." Valerie smiles and watches as Mary slides one of the drawers open and sifts through its contents. "I can see why you come down here."

"You can?"

"No one's going to follow you here." Valerie pushes off the shelves and moves to peer over Mary's shoulder into the drawer. "It's a pretty good hiding spot."

"I do not come here to hide. I come here to work."

Valerie looks at her like she knows better. Mary's used to being the one who gives others those looks, but she finds she doesn't entirely mind being on the receiving end for once.

Valerie takes a step back, putting a bit of space between them. "This is a very good spot, but not the best."

"Am I to take your word on that?"

"Of course not. I'll show you the others," Valerie says, like touring hiding places is a perfectly reasonable thing for two adults to do.

"I suppose that's only fair." Mary closes the drawer carefully and turns to Valerie, her expression a mixture of challenge and amusement.

\--

Mary finds that spy work relies on many of the same skills that make for a good bureaucrat—attention to detail, the ability to follow orders but still improvise when the occasion calls for it, and a knack for creating order out of chaos (or, in some cases, chaos out of order).

By the time Mary reaches her fifth anniversary as part of the Celestial Intervention Agency, she has a well-deserved reputation for being good at all of these things. She's also beginning to be a bit bored with it all, but she holds out hope that, given time, that feeling will start to dwindle. 

Her umbrella seems sure that it will not get any less boring and that if it's excitement she wants, she should move on to other things. She dislikes the idea of quitting so she ignores this advice, much like she ignores most of the helpful advice that it tries to give her.

Her decision seems to pay off when, a few months into her fifth year as an agent, she's finally faced with a real challenge. 

"What is that?" Mary points at the screen behind her uncle, frowning slightly at a tiny blip in the time stream, something that she would have missed if she hadn't spent so much time staring at that exact line both before and after completing her assignment.

"What's what?" Her uncle turns, scans the display and then turns back to her, wearing the blank look that he likes to use to disguise his confusion. "It's a minor fluctuation, nothing to trouble yourself with."

"No." Mary stands and steps around him, reaching up to run her finger along the screen, stopping below the slight imperfection. "This shouldn't be here."

"And yet it didn't affect the final outcome, so you shouldn't be so concerned about it," her uncle says, his voice indulgent. "You've been doing this long enough to know that no one can account for everything." 

"Not everything," Mary agrees, taps her finger against the screen and then folds her hands behind her back, taking a step back to look at the bigger picture. "But I know that doesn't belong there. What is it?"

Her uncle sighs and opens up a file, scrolling through until he finds what he's looking for. "There was a small rebellion that was meant to happen there. Nothing significant—a bit of unrest from the lower classes of one of the planet's mid-sized civilizations. A few hundred people would have been killed, others jailed."

"Except it didn't happen." Mary arches an eyebrow and stares at that one point. The fact that its impact doesn't seem to be far reaching makes it even more puzzling. 

"You do realize that no one is perfect all the time. Not even you." 

"Yes. I'm only perfect most of the time." Mary turns away from the wall, hands still tucked behind her back. It's another conversation that she won't be forgetting any time soon.

\--

Mary has found that one of the best times to finish work is in the evening, after most of the other people in the building have gone home. She figured this out before her uncle ever approached her about becoming a spy, and so her reputation as someone known to linger in her office late into the evening is both long-standing and widely known.

It's not really a surprise, then, that Valerie should think to look for Mary in her office long after the rest of the building has cleared. The surprise is that Valerie, who is known more for arriving early than leaving late, is still around to find her.

"I think it's time to take a break." Valerie is holding a basket with one hand, the top covered and contents hidden from view. Her hair is even more wild than usual, and something about her smile makes Mary narrow her eyes in suspicion.

"I've almost finished. I don't need a break."

Valerie looks like she might argue, but something in Mary's expression must stop her because she takes a seat in one of the empty chairs in front of Mary's desk and sets the basket at her feet. Liz climbs down from Valerie's shoulder and curls up in her lap, staring up at Mary patiently. "We'll wait until you're done, then."

Mary frowns and turns her attention back to the papers waiting for her on her desk. She manages another half hour of work, mostly out of sheer stubbornness, before she sighs and sets everything aside.

"All done?" Valerie says, looking like she knows that Mary isn't done, so much as she is simply unable to curb her curiosity any longer. Mary chooses not to dignify that with a response, and Valerie picks up the basket and Liz and stands, smiling. "Great. Follow me, then."

"Am I allowed to ask where you intend to take me?"

"You can, but if I tell you it will spoil the surprise." Valerie starts for the door, the basket swinging back and forth as she walks.

Mary straightens her robes and follows her, pausing to close and lock her office door behind them. She falls into step beside Valerie and they walk through the long corridors and out the front door, down a path cut between Mary's building and the one next to it where Valerie has a lab and an office of her own, although she's never ventured over to see it. 

They follow the path down to a set of stairs that leads to a door tucked into the side of the building. It's windowless and painted a dull grey, almost as drab and uninteresting a door as Mary can imagine. Based on her experience, this can only mean that whatever is behind it is something worth hiding.

Valerie produces a key from her pocket and unlocks it, then turns to Mary with a smile. "You first."

Mary gives Valerie a thoroughly unimpressed look; she is the last person that this type of cloak-and-dagger nonsense will work on, but she still reaches for the door and opens it, only to be greeted by birdsong and an endless sea of green and white.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" Valerie puts a hand on the small of her back and urges her forward, then follows her inside and shuts the door behind them.

Mary stops a few feet inside and tilts her head back, staring up at the blue of the sky above them. "Where are we?"

"The best hiding spot there is," Valerie says, reaching down to pick one of the white flowers at her feet, twirling it between her thumb and forefinger thoughtfully.

Mary is caught off-guard enough to allow herself to speak without planning out her words first. "It's very green here."

"It takes a little getting used to." Valerie's expression has a hint of uncertainty. "But I like it."

Mary reaches out to touch the petals of the flower in Valerie's hand. "It's beautiful."

Valerie smiles, no longer looking uncertain, and lifts her hand to tuck the flower behind Mary's ear. Her fingertips brush against Mary's hair as she pulls her hand away.

Mary smiles back and, without letting herself stop to consider her actions, leans forward to kiss her. 

When she pulls away, Valerie reaches out to take her hand, her smile bright. "If you like this, just wait until you see the rest."

Mary manages not to roll her eyes, but only just.

\--

As a Time Lord, Mary is more than aware of the many imperfections of time. Even so, she still recognizes that there is a difference between random chance and the changes that others impose upon time. She's well-versed in the latter, having been responsible for so many of them herself.

"There's a pattern here. I just can't see it "

"You're making yourself crazy over nothing. I'd say that's a pattern," her umbrella says from its place beside her chair.

"It's not nothing. It just appears that way at first glance." She purses her lips and taps the screen before her, adding another data point. "If it were only happening with my assignments, I'd be willing to admit the fault was with my work. But it appears to be happening to everyone."

"Then maybe everyone is at fault." Her umbrella flutters in annoyance. "Mistakes have been known to happen."

"These aren't mistakes," Mary says and picks the umbrella up off the floor, holding it up so it can get a look at the colored dots spread across the screen. Each point is a fluctuation in one of the timelines connected to recent work done either by herself or one of her fellow agents, and there are too many of them for her to write them off as random chance or bad planning.

Her umbrella whistles lowly and swivels in her hand. "That's a bit more than I was expecting."

"I told you." Mary taps a finger against the edge of the table and frowns. "I just can't figure out why. None of these had any effect on the final outcome of anything we've done. They're all small, discrete events with no long-lasting consequences—a few dozen people who didn't die from a disease outbreak, a species of wild flower that didn't go extinct, a town that doesn't lose its school to a flood."

"And you really think someone has done all this on purpose?"

"I don't know how else to explain it." She puts the umbrella back in its stand and sits back, eyes still fixed on the points spread out before her, their twinkling almost soothing. "But I also don't know why anyone would bother changing things that are ultimately so unimportant."

"Maybe they're not meant to be important."

Mary shakes her head. "Then why bother? It's not like any of it matters in the grand scheme of things."

Her umbrella shifts in its holder. "Maybe their idea of the big picture is just different than yours."

"Maybe," Mary agrees. 

She spends the rest of the evening staring at the points laid out in front of her, trying to force herself to see them from another angle.

\--

The building that Valerie works in is much more exciting than its boxy exterior would suggest. On the outside, it is nearly identical to every other government building in the area. Inside, it's full of color and sound and an assortment of oddities that Mary would have trouble imagining if she hadn't seen them first hand. Instead of offices, there are laboratories and test facilities and storage closets that lead to all but forgotten points in time. It makes Mary's building look like a mausoleum.

Mary has only been in the main part of the building once, long before she knew who Valerie was. Her memory of that first visit are hazy, but it's easy to imagine it being much duller before, as if the color and chaos that she sees now blossomed in Valerie's wake. 

Part of Mary would like to wander about, peering into doorways and exploring corners, but she steadfastly ignores the urge and makes her way through the hallways to Valerie's office, only stopping once to check with a passerby to be sure she's heading in the right direction. When she gets there, she takes a moment to admire it from the doorway; it's a jumble of color and scents and sound, plants spilling out from every corner and insects flitting about, other animals scurrying across the floor and darting in and out of the foliage. She doesn't think she could imagine a room that was a more perfect reflection of Valerie if she tried.

Valerie is in the center of the room, bent over and whispering something to a sullen-looking plant with violently blue leaves. The plant shakes and sways a little in response to something she says and Valerie's expression goes serious before she straightens and turns away. It takes a moment for her to spot Mary, but when she does she makes her way across the room toward her, avoiding plants and animals with a practiced ease. 

"You're about the last person I expected to see here," Valerie says, her expression one of genuine surprise. Mary doesn't know if she's ever managed to surprise her before. "To what do I owe the honor?"

Mary thinks about being coy, but she finds the thought unappealing, so she tells her the truth instead. "I wanted to see you."

"You just saw me three days ago," Valerie says, doing a poor impression of Mary's usual tone.

"I thought you might miss me." Mary knows that her smiles are nothing compared to Valerie's, but she offers one anyway and hopes it's enough. "Three days is a long time."

Valerie smiles back. "I think I like you being the one to track me down for once."

Mary meets her eyes and shrugs. "I think I do, too."

Valerie laughs like it's the best thing she's ever heard and leans in for a kiss, not seeming to care that they're still in full view of the hallway. 

Mary kisses her back and decides that she doesn't care, either.

\--

Mary has never been one to let a mystery go unsolved once it captures her attention. The mystery of the changes that she keeps finding in the time stream around her and her fellow fellow agents' missions is, much to her umbrella's dismay, no exception. It is, however, a bit harder to solve than she's used to. She doesn't know why the person or people in question are changing the events that they are, and she can't find them if she doesn't know where they'll be.

It's only after a conversation with Valerie that she realizes what she's been missing.

They're in Valerie's hiding spot, seated beside one another on the grass. Valerie is watching the way the flowers sway in the breeze and smiling, and Mary is watching Valerie.

"If you were allowed to change anything, what would it be?" Mary's not sure why she asks the question just then, except that it feels like it fits the moment, and she wants to know the answer.

"You mean now, or if non-interference wasn't a thing?" 

"If you didn't have to worry about non-interference and you could go anywhere and change anything that wasn't a fixed point in time."

Valerie answers without hesitation, "I'd go to Liz's home planet before I found her and save the tree that she lived in with her family. It was killed by parasites, poor thing."

Mary frowns. "You have the ability to change anything and you'd use it to save a tree?"

"Not just any tree. One specific tree." Valerie shrugs off Mary's confusion. "Liz loved living there with her family. I think it would be nice if they got a few more years to spend there."

"And you're sure you wouldn't choose something bigger? Save a planet or prevent a war?"

"No, other people can handle the big changes."

Mary stares at her, trying to figure out if there's some hidden meaning behind her words, having trouble believing that it's really that simple. "Why?"

"Because everyone thinks of the big moments and the final outcomes, and they forget about the little things that happen along the way."

"But if they don't matter in the grand scheme of things, why would you bother?"

"Because they matter to someone," Valerie says, sounding a bit sad. "If you had a chance to make someone happy, even if it didn't matter in the long run, why wouldn't you?"

Mary is quiet for a long moment, watching her and thinking about all of those changes that she hasn't been able to explain, and she thinks she might finally have her answer. "I'd have to start thinking about things that way first."

"You seem to be thinking about it now." Valerie plucks a flower and offers it to her.

"I am." Mary reaches out to take it, their fingers brushing, and she thinks that maybe there's an answer here that Valerie's been waiting for, too.

\--

"Let's leave," Valerie says, her voice soft. It's late enough that the night has faded into early morning, and the fact that Valerie is still here in Mary's bed means that they're probably going to spend the remainder of the night together as well. Mary is okay with this, likes having her close and being able to see her like this, bare breasted and sprawled out across Mary's sheets. Valerie always seems to quiet late at night, finds a calmness that she never manages during daylight.

Mary has never stopped being vaguely amazed that she's allowed to see her like this. "Where would we go?" 

"Anywhere. Everywhere. We're Time Lords. All you have to do is pick a place."

"And steal a TARDIS."

"That's a minor detail." Valerie waves her hand in the air above them, like she's swatting a fly. "It's not like it's that hard."

"And you would know?" Mary says, letting a bit of amusement slip into her voice. 

"I know a lot of things," Valerie says, and turns to give Mary a look that's equal parts resigned and hopeful. "I thought maybe you'd want to come with me."

Mary looks at her and, for just a moment, she imagines being somewhere where she doesn't have to worry about bureaucratic nonsense or her uncle's boring parties, where she can do what she likes and choose the things she wants to change on her own. But the thought of that same freedom scares her; she's willing to admit it to herself when she knows that Valerie is the only other person who might see it written on her face. "I can't."

"Not yet." Valerie smiles and reaches out to rest her hand against the side of Mary's face. "But maybe someday."

"Maybe." Mary reaches up to cover Valerie's hand with her own. "When are you leaving?"

Valeries shrugs. "I haven't decided."

"But you'll let me know when you do?"

"Of course." Valerie frowns and rubs her thumb against Mary's cheek. "I wouldn't leave without saying goodbye."

"I would hope not," Mary says, and leans in for a kiss.

\--

It is, Mary must admit, not a very remarkable tree. It is a nice tree, big and beautiful and full of leaves to shield the lizards lazing about on its branches from the sun. But nice is not the same as remarkable.

If you'd asked Mary a year ago whether this was an important difference, she would have said yes. Now, standing here and staring up at it, she's not so sure of her answer.

"Is there any reason we've been standing here, looking at this tree for the past half hour?" Her umbrella shifts impatiently in her grip. She tightens her hold on it and looks away from the tree finally.

"I was coming to a decision."

"A decision?" There is a touch of interest in the umbrella's voice. "And what would that be?"

She lifts it so they're looking one another in the eye. "I was thinking that it might be nice to retire."

Her umbrella looks about as serious as a thing made of wood can manage. "And what would you do, if you retired?"

"I don't know, precisely," Mary says, her mouth curving into a slow smile. "But I'm sure there's enough adventure out there to keep us busy. What do you think?"

"It's about bloody time," the umbrella says, its tiny wooden eyes rolling in judgment. "I thought we'd be stuck working for the Council for at least another decade."

Mary finds that, for once, she doesn't mind a bit of cheek. She stoops to pick up her carpet bag, giving the tree one last look. "Shall we, then?"

The umbrella is silent for a moment, waiting as Mary turns it, giving it room to unfurl. "Did you have somewhere particular in mind?"

Mary smiles. "Let's see where the wind takes us."

\--

Like most good Gallifreyan tales, it ends with a beginning.

Mary steps out of Number Seventeen Cherry Tree Lane, her umbrella clutched in one hand. With the other hand, she closes the door behind her and reaches up, checking that her hat is properly in place before she heads out for the day. Somewhere in the house, the children are making forlorn faces at Ellen, who is busy making equally forlorn faces back at them. Mary smiles to herself at the thought, but doesn't for a moment consider going back inside. The occasional day spent apart is good for everyone.

"So, what shall we do today?" she says. To an outsider, it would look like she's talking to the air, but her umbrella stirs a bit in her hand and she knows it's taking a moment to consider its answer.

"Maybe you should ask her." It twists in her grip, tilting itself to point at the base of the stairs where a woman is waiting for them.

Her dress lacks the wild pattern that Mary would have expected, but her hair is the same familiar, wild tangle and her hat is so covered in flowers that it borders on ridiculous. She smiles up at Mary from beneath the brim and Mary finds it hard not to smile back, but she manages to cover her delight with a stern look.

"I expected you earlier than this, you know." She starts down the steps, watches Valerie's smile widen with each step Mary takes. Liz is there, perched on Valerie's shoulder, looking faintly amused by the proceedings. 

"I didn't think you'd be this hard to find," Valerie says. When Mary stops at the bottom of the steps she reaches up, touches one of the flowers on Mary's hat with the tip of her finger and laughs. "Nice hat."

Mary gives Valerie's hat a pointed look and arches an eyebrow. "I usually have plans for my day off, you know."

Valerie drops her hand, lets her fingers brush against Mary's and shrugs. "I was hoping you could fit me into them."

"I suppose I could manage that." Mary uncurls one finger from around her umbrella, brushes it against Valerie's, and ignores the knowing look that both Liz and Mary's umbrella are giving them. "I only have every second Tuesday off, so we'll have to make the most of it."

"I'm sure we can figure something out," Valerie says, and falls into step beside Mary as they head off together down the street.


End file.
